An Unintended Audience
by Brackster
Summary: For unexplained reasons, Hunter isn't off on Operation Spotlight during 3.08 but is instead hanging around in The Playground and finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, witnessing things he was never meant to witness. He hates it but also loves it a little bit because who on that base does not ship Fitzsimmons?
Hunter settled back against the stolen cushions and threw another handful of popcorn into his mouth before pressing play on the third episode of Trollied in a row, adjusting the tablet slightly where it was propped against his knees. An old friend had sent him the whole series over a couple of weeks ago – they'd both worked in the local supermarket whilst studying for their GCSEs and miraculously stayed in touch – his friend thought he'd appreciate how the sitcom nailed the experience they'd shared and he wasn't wrong. Hunter chuckled quietly to himself barely a minute in. He also appreciated some proper British humour where each joke wasn't signposted three minutes in advance and highlighted with gales of canned laughter but instead just happened.

There was probably something more important he should have been doing, but if nobody could find him, nobody could give him a job to do. He'd accidentally found the small space at the back of the lab a few weeks ago, a gap between the back lab desk and the wall just big enough for Hunter, a couple of cushions, some popcorn, beer and his tablet – and the wifi signal was stronger than in his room.

The base was quiet and the lab deserted today so it had been easy to slip down here – even Fitz was elsewhere, doing some research with Simmons in the common room. He was just reaching for another handful of popcorn (America may not be able to do comedy, but they did know how to snack, Hunter conceded) when the sound of raised voices bled over the noise of his headphones. He paused his episode to listen, locking his tablet so the glow from the screen wouldn't risk illuminating his otherwise dark corner of the lab like a homing beacon.

A pair of footsteps marched across the lab, closely followed by a heavier pair.

"Where do you get off?" one shouted, Scottish accent stronger in his anger. Fitz. No prizes for guessing just who he was shouting at.

Hunter sank deeper into his cushions, trying to block out the sound of Simmons defending herself. He still didn't dare turn his tablet back on – things would be even worse if he was discovered now. Not only would his little secret den be discovered but there was no doubt in his mind that Fitz and Simmons clearly thought they were alone and would be less than happy for him to be listening. A rock and a hard place, Hunter thought miserably, grimacing at how literal the work surface and brick wall he was tucked between made that feel. He stared longingly at his popcorn wondering just how loudly he ate and just quite how long the two scientists were going to take with this argument. The longer things went on, the guiltier he felt. They'd all seen the two of the argue before – usually over science, trivialities or totally bonkers things like who exactly who would win in a fight between The Doctor and Sherlock (not an i _actual fight/i_ , Simmons would always stress, more a i _intellectual battle/i_ ), but nothing like this. This time there was so much anger and pent up frustrations, Hunter could feel the weight of the words spilling out, of weeks if not months of simmering tensions finally bubbling to the surface. Whilst their argument seemed to be fuelled by the events surrounding Simmons' encounter with the monolith, Hunter knew that this had been building for a lot longer than that. He cursed silently and sat up against the cushions, giving up on his futile attempts to not hear the shouting match at the other side of the room. As terrible as he felt for being in this situation in the first place he was here now and there wasn't anything he could do about it. Besides, he'd spent enough time watching these two tiptoe round each other and bottle up their feelings – it was about time something like this finally happened.

Hunter risked a small mouthful of popcorn, rolling his eyes as Fitz shouted about how wonderful that hog faced astro-moron had been – for a genius Fitz could be a real idiot sometimes and Hunter fully couldn't fathom just how he could be so blind to the fact that these comparisons were plain ridiculous. Yeah that astronaut may have been the reason Simmons survived her time on that planet relatively unscathed, but without Fitz she wouldn't have been alive to have ended up there, wouldn't have got back, and certainly wouldn't be in a position to have this argument. Hunter slumped against the cold brick wall, for goodness sake Fitz why couldn't he...

"And you dove through a hole in the universe for me!"

Hunter sat up straight abruptly. i _Yes Simmons!/i_ Good play love, good play. There was something in her voice he'd never heard before, though granted he didn't know her half as well as he should have considering the length of time they'd been working together... although in fairness to him she'd spent a good chunk of that time infiltrating Hydra or lost on an alien planet. Whatever he'd heard though, Fitz seemed to have heard it too, suddenly unable to find a snappy response. After the heated exchange the moment's silence seemed to stretch on for hours. Hunter heard a shuffle of movement and decided to risk a peek over the workbench, praying he'd see Fitz's retreating back as he left the lab unable to find the words to reply. But Fitz was still there, standing toe to toe with Simmons, her back to the workstation in the centre of the room. The look between them was so intense any doubts Hunter might have had about the privacy of this moment were thoroughly quashed. He knew he should duck back down, heck, he knew he should duck so far down he sank through the floor and landed in whatever dusty storeroom was below but he couldn't bring himself to move; this was much better drama than any of the shows Bobbi had made him watch recently and besides, one day this would make an excellent story for them all to laugh about after a few pints. One day.

That day moved further away and Hunter's jaw dropped as Fitz launched himself face first at Simmons, catching her mouth clumsily with his, the force of his sudden advance sending her stumbling back against the bench, knocking a book flying in the process. Hunter was torn between cheering on Fitz behalf for finally, i _finally/i,_ making a move and being aghast the way he'd gone about it.

For one, angry kissing never solved an argument, he'd learnt that the hard way with Bobbi – at best it postponed a fight, at worst it caused even more problems – and the last thing these two needed was to postpone all this air clearing any further. Secondly, what was Fitz thinking? So much for a romantic first kiss i'oh you just confessed your love for another bloke who incidentally is perfect what a great time to aggressively make out whilst I shove you back against your desk with my crotch'/i yeah, good one mate, real smooth.

Thankfully for Hunter it was over almost as soon as it had begun, with Fitz backing away in anticipation of Simmons' retaliation for him being so forward. Wise move, Hunter thought based on his own experiences with Bobbi, expect Simmons didn't i _look/i_ angry. Hunter mentally berated Fitz for being so blind i _again_ ,/i half tempted with announcing his presence by leaping up and shouting at him - ifor goodness sake man just kiss the bloody girl!./i He really wouldn't be auditioning for the part of Sebastian in The Little Mermaid any time soon. As fast as Hunter could think, Simmons acted, stepping forward and catching Fitz – slowly and deliberately pulling him in for another kiss. Just when Hunter kept thinking things couldn't get more intimate and his presence more intrusive they did – why did they have to bring their argument in here? Hunter sank back down behind the bench, a sudden pang of horror striking in his gut – what if things got worse? What if this was an awakening for the two of them and they couldn't wait any longer and thinking they were alone in the lab things... escalated. Hunter buried his face in his hands, pressing his fingers against his eyes to try and burn the images from his mind, wracking his brain for a plan to get them out before that situation arose.

"We're cursed." Fitz voice was so quiet and broken Hunter only just caught his words, looking up in shock. No no no – as much as he didn't want the other scenario to play out this wasn't supposed to happen either.

 _iFor goodness sake guys get it together./i_ Even his internal monologue sounded whiny as he heard footsteps heading to the door. Ugh he wanted to run out and bang their stupid genius heads together – why couldn't they see how perfect they were together or how much they loved each other?

"Fitz look at this"

Oh? Hunter sank back against his cushions, just stopping himself before taking a swig of beer that would no doubt sound like a gushing waterfall now the lab was deathly quiet.

Shuffling of paper. Footsteps.

"Blimey."

Without another word both pairs of footsteps hurried out the room. Hunter counted to ten, checked the coast was clear and gathered his things before bolting for the door. Stronger wifi signal or not he was finishing his episode in his room. He knew he should keep what he witnessed to himself, for the sake of his super secret den if nothing else, but for a spy he'd never been very good at keeping secrets (that was his ex wife's territory) and blimey he couldn't wait to tell Bobbi and Mack what he'd seen. Also, he'd have to check the bet book, but he was pretty sure a fair bit of money would be changing hands that evening.


End file.
